


Heartsong (Next Time)

by thesacredgrove



Category: Supernatural, Supernatural: The Animation
Genre: Anal Sex, Artisanal Lemon, Bottom Castiel, Bottom!Cas, Deep Throating, Episode: s05e03 Free to Be You and Me, Everyone is Everything, Lemon, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Oral Sex, Rough Gagging, Rough Oral Sex, Switch Cas, Switch Dean, Top Dean, Top!Cas, Virgin Castiel, bottom!Dean, top!dean
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-15
Updated: 2016-03-07
Packaged: 2018-03-01 14:17:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2776097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesacredgrove/pseuds/thesacredgrove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean had thought the entire time that he could handle this, all of this: the fear, the wanting, the fucking ... whatever might come.</p><p>He was so wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_Choosing to be here in_  
_This body._  
_This body holding me._  
_Be my reminder here that I am not alone in_  
_This body_  
_This body holding me_  
_Feeling eternal_  
_All this pain is an illusion._  
_-_ Tool _: Parabola_

 

* * *

“Castiel, do you trust me?”

The elder Winchester's tone was serious as he closed the door, addressing the lone figure standing in the center of the room.  
  
“Yes, Dean. I trust you implicitly,” the angel replied, turning to look at him.  
  
The moonlight streaming in the window bathed Dean in pale gray as he closed the distance between them. He hadn't actually waited for Cas to answer before reaching forward to loosen the blue tie at his collar.  
  
“Dean. What are you doing?” Castiel asked.  
  
“Taking off your clothes,” Dean replied.  
  
Castiel was genuinely confused.  
  
“Why are you doing that, Dean?”  
  
The hunter stopped what he was doing and looked Cas in the eye, hands frozen at his neck.  
  
“I thought you said you trusted me?” the man questioned, eyebrow raised.  
  
Cas tilted his head and squinted at Dean for a moment.  
  
“I do believe you have my best interests at heart,” he finally said.  
  
Dean continued his task; he pulled Castiel's tie from its starched fabric prison, tossing it toward the nearest chair. It missed its mark but he left it coiled like a snake on the floor.  
  
“Can't let you die a virgin, Cas,” Dean replied, shaking his head and busying himself with pulling the twill of a trenchcoat down the angel's borrowed arms, “What kind of friend would I be? You deserve better.”  
  
Castiel was silent, allowing Dean to remove his coat. The khaki armor was also thrown unceremoniously toward the chair. This time the discarded clothing landed on its mark.  
  
“Are you sure this is wise?” the angel asked, unmoving, as Dean began unbuttoning the rumpled linen shirt he always wore.  
  
Dean did not miss a beat.  
  
“I have had _way_ too many Jack and Cokes to answer that,” he said.  
  
Castiel knew that wasn't true.  
  
“You saw what happened when I tried to be intimate with that woman earlier,” Cas said, plaintively. Gesturing weakly at his human body, he added, “I'm not good at … _this_.”  
  
Dean stopped for a moment, straightened up and looked the angel in the eye again, much sterner this time. He wanted to tell Cas that he thought he was great. He was damn fine, actually. A better human than most humans he knew. Always did his best. Awesome at everything.  
  
Especially making him melt like a fucking school girl.  
  
“I'm not her, Buddy,” he said instead, “and I am _not_ lettin' you go out tomorrow with your cherry intact. I'll do this myself if I have to.”  
  
Castiel could tell that Dean wasn't doing this because he felt he had to. He _wanted_ to. Cas pretended not to notice. He also pretended not to notice that Dean's hands were trembling as he watched him move slowly down his torso, opening button after button, shaking like a leaf.

Dean waited until he had only a few buttons left to ask Cas an important question.  
  
“Would you rather pitch or catch?” he was flippant, on his knees now in front of the angel.  
  
Castiel looked down at Dean and cocked his head the way a dog might if it hadn't understood a command it was given.  
  
Dean translated.  
  
“Would you rather give or receive?” he asked, blushing slightly and hoping he wouldn't have to explain any further.  
  
Cas had understood the question: he'd been in this vessel, in this place, for a while now. He understood some human things. What he hadn't understood was why Dean was using such off-handed language. He wondered if pretending that this was all of little consequence helped him keep his hands steady.  
  
“Which is better?” Castiel asked, genuinely not sure, "Penetrating or being penetrated?"  
  
Dean swallowed and finished his task of unbuttoning, made more difficult by the trembling of his hands. He rose to his full height while looking up at the angel.  
  
“Well, they're both …” he trailed off, beginning to remove his own jacket now, “We don't have to do either, if you don't want to."

Cas repeated his question, "Which is better, Dean?"

The hunter pulled his jacket all the way off.  
  
"It's complicated, Cas. They're both awesome in different ways. Top and bottom ... they're like chocolate and peanut butter.”  
  
Castiel didn't understand everything Dean had said, but he paused for a moment deep in thought.  
  
“Which do you prefer?” Cas asked innocently, head still cocked.  
  
It was Dean's turn to pause, just as deep in thought. He fiddled with his coat, now balled up in his hands, as he spoke.  
  
“Well, Cas, to be honest - it's hardly ever just one or the other with me. I like both. Plus, there are a lot of other things we can do. It just … depends,” the man half-shrugged, “Like I said, chocolate and peanut butter. I'm fine with either one. Or a little of both.”  
  
Castiel studied Dean's face, seriously and with great intent.  
  
“Which is chocolate and which is peanut butter?” he asked flatly.  
  
Dean laughed out loud and huffed.  
  
“That was just a metaphor, Cas. A figure of speech!” Dean took a breath, calmed his tone, “It doesn't matter which is which.”  
  
His voice was smooth and uncharacteristically tender as he continued.  
  
“What matters is - this is for you. So it's whatever _you_ want. We'll take it slow. It'll be good, no matter what. I promise.”  
  
Listening quietly while Dean spoke, Castiel took in everything he said – and didn't say. The angel believed him.  He knew Dean had a lot of experience with this particular facet of human existence: if he thought this was a good thing to do, then it was a good thing to do.  
  
Cas took a moment to silently reflect on Dean's words, then answered.

“I want you inside me,” he finally said, still squinting thoughtfully at Dean in that way he liked to do, “Yes. I'd like you inside my vessel with me. At least this first time.”

The downy fabric of Dean's jacket slipped through his fingers and hit the floor with a barely audible noise. All the breath leaving his body however, made a throaty and desperate sound. The air evacuated his lungs in one heavy moan, as did any pretense he had remaining about this being his duty.  
  
This was not something Dean _had_ to do. He was not being a _good friend_. He _needed_ this. He _wanted_ this – he wanted _Cas_ , so damned much it hurt. He had to act, and he had to act _now_ : He'd probably never have another chance.  
  
That realization hurt more than Dean could admit. He pushed it from his mind. That was tomorrow. Tonight was happening _right now_. Castiel was standing here, saying he wanted him.  
  
_He'd said he wanted him inside._  
  
Dean lost his mind.


	2. Chapter 2

He hadn't taken Cas' shirt off yet, but it was unbuttoned to the waist. Dean took a quarter step forward and grabbed the collar in both hands, pulling the angel to him.  
  
Their lips crashed together harder than he had intended, but Dean found Castiel's mouth to be soft – more pliant than he'd hoped. When their softness parted against his to gasp, Dean dissolved. He had also expected Cas' demeanor to be stiff, but that was not the case; the angel felt strong but fluid as he returned Dean's kisses with genuine ardor, matching him perfectly in tone and pitch.  
  
Dean moaned quietly and pressed a hand to Cas' chest – the heart caged beneath was beating wildly. That realization excited Dean and he pressed on, mirroring the surprising fervor of Castiel's mouth with his own. He hummed gently as kiss after kiss was pressed to his lips, Cas not waiting for one to end before beginning another.  
  
“You taste like pie,” Dean breathed, smiling as he came up for air.  
  
“I thought I was peanut butter?” Castiel asked, so sweetly and without pretense that it made Dean's heart ache. He laughed gently and cradled the angel's cheek.  
  
“Cas, it's another metaphor. I just meant that you remind me of …" the man's voice trailed off for a moment while he thought of what to say.

"Of something good,” he finally finished.  
  
Castiel took Dean's other hand in his as he listened to him speak. He laced their fingers together and studied the soft fist they made like it was the most interesting thing he had ever seen.  
  
“ _You_ remind _me_ of a Tuesday afternoon,” Castiel said, almost inaudibly. Dean did not exactly understand, but realized he didn't have to. He moved in swiftly to continue kissing the angel, probing deep and sweet, pulling noises he'd never heard from Cas' throat.  
  
Before long, both man and angel were whimpering and gasping, pressed chest-to-chest, hand-in-hand in the center of the room. Dean, deciding it was time to move on, wrenched his lips from Castiel's and pulled him by their linked hands to the bedroom he'd claimed as his.  
  
“Should I feel so hot?” Castiel asked as they entered the smaller room, realizing that he was suddenly ablaze from head to toe.  
  
“Well -”  
  
Dean was all but attacked as he turned to answer, Cas pressing their bodies together mouth-first with almost too much strength. Locked in a kiss, the angel pulled off the button-up Dean wore - already open – tossed it to the floor with little regard and started on the tee beneath, hungrier than Dean anticipated he would be.  
  
“Whoa there, Tiger!” Dean exclaimed, smiling, “We have _all night_. It's not like you sleep, anyway!”  
  
Castiel's hair was mussed, finger-strewn and chaotic. His face was soft but his eyes were wild; his rumpled shirt hung loosely from one shoulder. Gone was the shy, hesitant figure from earlier in the evening - now, the angel was all fire.  
  
“I enjoy kissing you, Dean,” he said, an even tone to his deep voice, “I want to kiss more of you.”  
  
Dean was admittedly surprised by Castiel's desire. He'd expected him to refuse his offer, or at best be too overcome to actually enjoy himself. It was a very pleasant surprise for the angel to not only be receptive but interested. To have him like _this -_ setting their pace - was unreal.  
  
What Dean didn't know was that Castiel was surprised, too. He was letting himself feel, something he'd barely done since setting foot on earth. He hadn't expected to react like this. Occupying a vessel was strange and unnerving most of the time. It was intense, even for a being as powerful as himself; he found it easiest to just shut everything off while inside, but he'd sensed in Dean the need to flip that switch back on for a little while, so he had.  
  
He wasn't regretting it and didn't think he would, though the fire in his stomach had spread. Up and down and out, flushing his chest and cheeks, cock and thighs, moving all over him. It made him want.  
  
What he wanted was Dean – that was clear. He had been the reason, the impetus behind so much feeling already. Now, this.  
  
Cas pawed at the man's shirt and Dean allowed himself to be striped to the waist; the angel grabbed the fabric of the hunter's tee at the bottom hem and pulled it off up-stretched arms. As shoulders were bared, Castiel's lips found them one after the other, dipping his tongue into the hollows near Dean's collar with hesitant and deliberate tenderness.  
  
He could not help but moan under Castiel's lips, his throat humming delicately. The angel hummed back and Dean grew weak at the knees. He was loving this, but at the same time did not want Cas to feel abandoned.  
  
“Let's get you undressed, too,” he said quietly.  
  
Moving in to get rid of that derelict shirt, Dean caught the dangling fabric from Cas' shoulder and pulled the linen gently down his arm. He took a moment to toss it on a chair before focusing all his attention back to the angel.  
  
Dean was made speechless as he turned back to Castiel. The angel had closed his eyes, standing still and quiet, arms at his sides, with just the palest light coming though the old blinds to play across his body. He was luminescent and exquisite in the moonlight.  
  
“Your heart is pounding,” Cas said to Dean, reading him with his eyes still closed, “You're just as hot all over as I am. It's coming from inside us.”  
  
Cas opened his eyes and reached for Dean, planting a flattened palm against his bare chest. He moved in closer and wrapped his arms around the man. The gesture was returned.  
  
“You're surprised that I understand this,” Cas said, breaking their embrace to look Dean in the eye, “That I want it. That I'm comfortable enough to trust you.”  
  
The man nodded.  
  
“Dean, you should know -” Cas paused, trying to pull the correct words together, “That while I understand the concept of intimacy, there are many physical aspects of the human condition I do not fully grasp.”  
  
Suddenly, Dean was startled. An urgent tone filled his voice.  
  
“Can you feel pleasure?” he demanded to know.  
  
“Yes,” Cas nodded.  
  
Dean breathed a literal sigh of relief then continued, hesitantly.  
  
“Pain?”  
  
Cas nodded again, explaining.  
  
“I am capable of feeling any sensation my vessel can feel. I find many intricacies of the human body mundane and unnecessary, however. I tend to negate them.”  
  
Cas sensed that Dean did not fully understand.  
  
“I turn most of this off,” Castiel said, again gesturing weakly at his human form, now shirtless.  
  
It was Dean's turn to nod.  
  
“You might want to turn some of that back on - for this,” he said, pointing at the air between them.  
  
“I already have,” Cas replied, his gaze cast downward for a moment, “I believe that's why I am … so overwhelmed.”  
  
He shifted his eyes from the floor up to meet Dean's and added pensively, “It is odd for me, to be inside a corporeal form.”  
  
Dean knew how disconcerting it had felt, to be outside his body and then inside it again. He thought it must be even more upsetting to suddenly be crammed inside something foreign that doesn't fit. He wanted nothing more than to comfort the angel, but he didn't really know how.  
  
“There is so much good here,” the hunter said, running his hand along Cas' jawline, down the neck, the shoulder, down the arm and taking one of Castiel's hands in both of his, “I'm sorry you don't feel at home.”  
  
Dean didn't quite like what he'd said; it was his turn to look down, staring at his shoes, uncharacteristically awkward.  
  
“I appreciate that you're trusting me,” he continued, “I... I'm here for you. It's okay to be overwhelmed. Just talk to me.”  
  
“I will, Dean.”  
  
“Don't be afraid ... to ask questions," the hunter stumbled over his words, "or, Hell - _make demands_.”  
  
It was Castiel's turn to not miss a beat.  
  
“Take off the rest of my clothes, Dean.”  
  
The hunter's face erupted in a grin.  
  
“Sit on the edge of the bed for me, Cas.”


	3. Chapter 3

The angel took a few steps backward and sat gingerly at the edge of the small bed. Dean sunk to his knees to pull at Cas' shoes; they were thrown off and thin socks followed. Not wanting to address the erection in Castiel's slacks just yet, the man navigated around its weight to fumble with belt and zipper instead. Working them both open and strategically tugging at elastic, Dean coaxed Cas up off the mattress briefly, taking his pants and boxers off in one gentle pull.  
  
Castiel was not shy about this body; it occurred to Dean that he would never have known modesty or shame. He didn't move to cover his nakedness, instead sitting simply and watching eyes and hands pass over him. They moved from the tousled fluff at the angel's hair, over the stubbled curve of cheek, down his neck to muscled chest, over the _bump bump bump_ of ribs. The smooth pull of skin-on-skin was broken first by the soft cleft of a belly-button and then by a proudness of cock standing at attention.  
  
Dean lingered on the stiffness he came to last, running just one finger along its length. Castiel shuddered but was silent, eyes fixed on the man. His gaze grew hard as Dean ran that single finger around and along the swollen head of his sex, stopping at the spot he knew was most sensitive just underneath.  
  
Castiel writhed and shook as Dean's eyes met his, finger swirling and teasing the sweet bundle of nerves.  
  
“How does that feel?” Dean asked, looking up at the angel.  
  
“I don't know,” Cas responded quickly, “But don't stop.”  
  
Dean smiled and obliged for just a few seconds more before exchanging one finger for his entire hand, taking the angel's thickness into his fist and tugging gingerly - just a few times.  
  
"And this?" Dean questioned.  
  
Castiel gripped the sheets, breathed Dean's name, and - overcome with sensation - was unable to utter more. Another slow smile spread over the hunter's face as he regarded the being before him.  
  
Glorious, unassuming, fresh. Cas was gorgeous. And powerful. Knowing the potential that surged inside the figure sitting before him excited Dean; heat rushed to his sex in a wave. Wanting nothing more than to join the angel on the bed, Dean drifted from Cas slowly to strip off his remaining clothes so he could do just that.

“Let me,” Castiel said, putting hand to fly and unzipping Dean's jeans while he stood to shed his boots.  
  
The angel mimicked Dean's gentle action from earlier, tugging the boxer briefs and pants under his hands down together in one fluid motion. As Dean's manhood pulled from the fabric, Cas was taken aback by how it bucked free – hard, jumping and arching. Castiel was mesmerized and continued to stare quietly as Dean kicked his way out of his clothes, chuckling softly.  
  
Flicking the last pieces of fabric away, Dean's heftiness swayed and bounced with every movement of his body. Cas was riveted by the sight, watching quietly for a moment while he dragged his hands to pronounced hips. Castiel held him tightly there and allowed his thumbs to trace lazy circles as he continued to stare, lost in thought, squeezing the flesh under his hands. Moving deliberately to cup Dean's backside, he leaned in to run his mouth along a ridge of hipbone.  
  
“I enjoy kissing you, Dean,” Castiel said again, looking up to the man when he was done.  
  
They both paused for a heavy moment, eyes locked, before the hunter ran his hands through Cas' hair, then motioned for him to make room on the bed. The angel looked at the space next to him, confused, and did not move. Instead of explaining himself, Dean made the best of the bewilderment and knelt to straddle Castiel. Their cocks brushed together for just a breath, but it was enough to send Cas into a panic. He gripped Dean tight, the body in his care almost instinctively rutting against the one above it, whispering words of prayer the man did not understand as he moved.  
  
Dean answered by clutching the angel close and whispering prayers of his own. He dropped kisses and words of pleasure at the hollow of Castiel's neck, eventually dragging hands from where wings would be on his back to grasp him at the waist. As manhood moved against manhood, Cas mumbled something and pulled Dean's lips to his.  
  
“ _More_ ,” he'd said, but not in a language Dean knew. The angel was out of his element, wild and growing wilder with every touch. This sensation - the closeness he felt mouth-to-mouth and cock-to-cock with this man - made him grow hotter by the second. He wondered if he'd ever cool down.  
  
Dean too was growing more wanton, his kisses turning open-mouthed and sloppy. He moved his hands down now, between the two of them; curling steady fingers, he grabbed at the hard lengths of both the angel's cock and his own.  
  
“Lie down, Cas,” Dean moaned, gently - so gently – into the angel's open mouth while pulling at the mix of stiff flesh in his hand. He could not help but rub himself against his own fist and the angel's hardness as he spoke.  
  
“Dean,  _kiss me_ ,” Castiel replied, his voice wavering, not knowing what to ask for first, “ _Touch me._ Don't stop."  
  
The hunter complied – an exercise in silent supplication. Dean traced the shape of Cas' tongue with his own, sucked his bottom lip tenderly, then tasted and took the angel's mouth with reckless abandon – all the while still moving his hand against anything solid it found. He softly fucked his own fist and Cas' stony flesh in equal measure.

Castiel made small animal sounds as Dean used the force of their coupling to gradually coax him flat. The angel was hesitant to recline but was defeated by repeated kisses from the hunter. Dean shifted his weight, helped Cas move parallel on the bed and stretch out, almost too tall for the small mattress.

As soon as he was comfortable, Castiel reached up for Dean who moved in close, cradled his jaw, taking Cas' whole face in his hands. He felt Dean's thighs spread to straddle him again as he bent low over his hot frame. Castiel whimpered, begging wordlessly for a mouth on his again. Dean took what felt like forever to finally bring his lips to the angel's; he breathed in the soft noises Cas made as their bodies pressed together tightly - lip-to-lip, chest-to-chest, cock-to-cock.  
  
Dean rocked his hips slowly against the flesh beneath him, and Castiel began to mimic his movements. Granite brushed against granite; Cas dissolved, called out to his lover, more aware of this body than ever before. He was a smothering mess as hands moved to Dean's hair, neck and shoulders, the angel pulling him in closer with every kiss and lick.  
  
This was becoming too much for Dean. He was hot - he couldn't remember ever being so hot - and his dick ached. It was getting too hard for him to catch his breath. He needed to focus, to remember why he was here. Gulping air between kisses, he attempted to break free of the angel's mouth, to move further down his body.  
  
“Dean - kiss me just a little longer,” Castiel begged, his voice catching in his throat.

The pure sweetness of the words sent shivers down Dean's spine. He could not help but oblige, kiss after kiss after kiss showered on the hot angel beneath him, tongue and lip and hands melting together; all the manhood between them leaping urgently with every meeting of mouth to mouth.  
  
“ _Cas_ ,” Dean said, as overcome as the angel beneath him, “I _need_ to kiss you _here.”_  
  
He bucked his hips to highlight his desire, swollen sex trapped between their tight-pressed bodies.  
  
Dean had started the storm of this - slow moving and heavy - but it was Castiel who made it rage in earnest: growing hotter still, he took one of Dean's hands and brought it down to his hardness pressed between them.   
  
“Here, Dean?” he asked, knowing the answer.   
  
Dean was quickly lost in the tempest.

One more moment mouth-to-mouth with Cas and he twisted himself from the angel's embrace. Stretching up to his full kneeling height, the hunter breathed deep and ran both hands through his short hair; he wanted to clear his mind before touching Castiel again. He did, then took another breath, letting hands fall heavy onto the body beneath him.  
  
Dean's fingers memorized every hill and valley of the vessel he straddled. Seeking madly, falling smoothly over supple curves and hard lines, they again found solace at the cock.  
  
“Yes, Angel,” Dean said, dragging a fingertip over the stony skin, “Here.”  
  
_So_ _warm,_ the hunter thought, _so fucking warm. I cannot wait to taste it._  
  
Cas' eyes grew wide – he'd heard those words as though Dean had shouted them.  
  
The man did not flinch or hesitate, though he sensed that Cas knew his thoughts. He continued, from the tip of Castiel's sex, down to the root - first mild fingers like a whisper, then the roving thunder of his whole hand squeezing staccato and swift. Dean watched Cas' expression change from calm breeze to confused rustle, the leaves of his senses falling in the wind, not realizing the coming storm had already arrived.  
  
Castiel met his hunter's gaze with wild eyes, biting his lips - misplaced without Dean's on them. The man smiled down at him, not stopping the rhythmic _pump pump pump_ of his fist, and Cas was swept away in the sensation, moaning loudly, barely remembering how to stay inside himself. His hands grew frantic for contact; sitting up, he reached out for Dean - found chest, rib, waist, hips, knee, thigh and heavy manhood. All fell beneath his hands. The Winchester was loud when his sex was touched directly, groaning as hesitant fingers pulled along its length grew bolder with each pass. A bolt shot through him, lightning to accompany the thunder he'd unleashed as Cas carefully began to stroke and squeeze him in earnest.  
  
“ _Castiel_ ,” Dean growled and swallowed hard, still working his own gentle magic on the angel's borrowed flesh, “Are you ready for more?”  
  
Cas did not stop touching Dean but answered the hunter with a single word, giving further voice to the beautiful desperation rising in his throat.

 


	4. Chapter 4

“ _Yes_.”  
  
Castiel's voice was warm, rich in contrast to the cold silence of the room.  
  
They reluctantly released each other as Dean tipped his body forward, pushing them chest-to-chest for just a moment. The hunter then moved his mouth back to the angel's – they enjoyed a deep kiss, but Dean did not remain there long. Passing his lips down Cas' body, he traveled over jaw, neck, and collar, lingering at Castiel's throat longer than he'd planned.

He wanted to memorize the way the angel's voice hummed under his lips before he continued.

Pushing on, Dean hesitated as he passed one pink nipple, nudging it softly with his nose before taking it between his teeth. A sharp gasp from his lover drove the man to seize the other between thumb and finger, squeezing. The angel's breath left him again, ragged and broken as he repeated Dean's name over and over. The hunter then moved his smiling mouth down, from one rib to the next, followed quickly by the sweet valley of a navel. Suddenly, another storm came as want made itself manifest: Castiel's hardness was discovered again like so much stony treasure.

Dean took a breath and used it to whisper Cas' name; all those times he'd done so in prayer coming back to him now. This time was different, though: the angel's vessel was the altar, this cock the text of a ritual - an ancient spell to gods of want and need ready to be cast.  
  
The Winchester planted a kiss on the tip of Castiel's solid flesh and a great shudder ripped through him. Dean smiled, sending his tongue on a long journey from base to tip as the shuddering became shaking. More, followed by another. Then more.  
  
Abruptly, the angel stopped shaking, becoming motionless and stiff.

“ _Dean_ ,” Castiel breathed, his formal tone firmly in place, “I'm leaking.”  
  
The man made a noise, heavy with want, and brought his tongue to the apex of Cas' hardness - first licking at the wet slit with the point of his tongue, then attacked it with long laps from a wide, flat edge.

When he was done, he did it again. And then again. And again, moaning and sighing the entire time.

“I'm pretty sure I am too - now,” he replied, his voice a whisper made hoarse with desire. Reaching down to handle his own erection, he found that he was right. 

Castiel was surprised.  
  
“This is _normal_?” he questioned.  
  
Dean pulled a hand away from his own damp manhood and nodded.  
  
“It happens sometimes when I'm really excited,” he said plainly.

“ _I am also really excited,_ ” Cas blurted, much too loudly and much too fast.

The hunter couldn't remember the last time he'd smiled so much.

“I know, Angel. I know.”

Dean carefully leaned in and returned to what he'd been doing, using first hands and then mouth to tease the body under him. Light kisses turned to slow-timed licks, and those licks became more; he slipped the angel's weeping cock into his mouth a little at a time, then out again, over and over.

Castiel became a ball of fire as each new sensation addressed him. He writhed in answer, wild-eyed and unable to hold still as Dean worked lazy circles over rigid skin. Before long, he was lost in the rhythm of his hunter's mouth, clawing at the sheets in time to the busy tongue stirring below.

Never in his wildest dreams would Castiel have thought that this vessel - usually so limiting - was capable of such a range of feeling, or that this man would be the one to show it to him.  _This_ man:  _Dean_. _His_ Dean. The man he'd gone to Hell for, and come back needing so badly. The man he quickly learned he'd return to Hell for in a human heartbeat.

Cas craned his neck to observe the hunter at work, eager to see him in this new light and burn the image into his memory. The angel's eyes instantly blew wide as he saw his length disappear into Dean's mouth, then again and again. Mesmerized, he watched the man's body fold over his, lips and tongue and hands pass over him like vines. Castiel was hot and wild but also felt great tenderness wash over him; he reached down to touch the back of Dean's head, whisper-light.

Dean's hair was soft – the sensation of losing his fingers in it soothed the wayward angel for a moment. The hunter reacted without delay to the contact, nuzzling Castiel's palm with his crown and moaning quietly, even with a mouth full of flesh. He was fucking loving this. Cas was perfect: so sweet - so warm and tender, the hunter thought. So goddamn good. _What have I ever done to deserve this_ , he wondered. He didn't think he even deserved to be alive, let alone have someone like Cas all to himself – even for just one night.

He didn't intend to listen, but Castiel heard Dean's thoughts, clear as day. There was so much and it was _so_ loud - he couldn't help it.  
  
Running both hands through Dean's hair now, Cas moved them down and over full cheeks. The man stopped his work and allowed Castiel to pull his chin up with one finger. The angel sighed, Dean slipping his hardness from the beautiful depth of his mouth, gazing to him from the top of his eyes. A thick trail of saliva still connected them together.  
  
Castiel had seen all of the most glorious things in creation, both in heaven and on earth. None of it had ever been quite as exquisite as this man: bent low over this body, worshiping him like a god in this small bed.

He began to understand many things: things that hadn't made sense to him - until now.  
  
Moving to cradle Dean's jaw in one hand, Cas swiped wetness from the man's mouth with the other. A jolt shot through him as their eyes locked. The heart in his chest felt so full, he was actually afraid it might burst.  
  
“You … love this,” Castiel stammered, his eyes still wild but tempered by realization, “but, not _just_ this. You -”  
  
Dean reached up and shushed Cas tenderly, bringing a soft finger to his lips and pressing it there for a moment. He was terrified of what Castiel intended to say next. Moving up the angel's body to kiss him again, Dean took a moment to first look the angel in his eyes and brush a few errant hairs away from his face.

Everything he didn't want Cas to say shone through his soft actions like a spotlight.

 


	5. Chapter 5

The pair were quiet for a long while, forehead to forehead, the gentle sounds of their kissing the only noise in the room. Eye-to-eye with nowhere to hide, it took some time for Dean to recover from Castiel's words - gradually he broke away, moving back down the length of the angel's borrowed body to distract himself from their implication.

Without speaking, Dean asked the angel's permission to taste him again; Cas answered with no more than a blink and a tilt of his head. The hunter grinned before finally breaking the intensity of their gaze – he closed his eyes and moved a smiling mouth back where it longed to be.

Pleasure itself was not foreign to Castiel, but this was more, and much different, than he'd ever experienced. It took everything in him to hold still as the man dipped low one more time, pressing his lips to the cock stretched out before him. Another heavy string of Enochian escaped the angel's throat as Dean planted kiss after kiss down one side of the slick shaft, beating a path to the base and nuzzling the soft hairs there with his nose. The hunter took a moment to revel in this space, then nipped gently back up to the head, lapping at the beads of wetness gathering one after the next at the tip. Cas shivered and cried for his lover, again forgetting himself and doing so in the ancient language of Heaven. Dean, beaming, took a deep breath in before parting his lips to the angel's thickness once more.

The man may have been afraid of his feelings, but not of this act. Cas swam in that thought, lost for a moment but snapped back hard as Dean took his fullness deep …deeper still … deeper than before, voice buzzing low in approval. Castiel heard another slow intake of breath as Dean coaxed the thick head of his sex further and further back, seeking the source of that throaty hum. He grasped at Castiel's hips and pulled them up off the bed, all but forcing the angel's swollen flesh far into his mouth.

Cas nearly fell out of himself then. The shock, the heat of the moment, pushed him half-sideways out of his body. He'd never realized how much of his essence he used to stay centered until tonight, until so much of him was taken up by this man, right now by his mouth - more urgent, but somehow softer, more tender and yielding than before.

The angel jumped hard as he settled back into his vessel, reseating himself and remembering how to _be_. Dean - desperate to drag that violent reaction from him one more time – pulled his mouth up and off hot flesh, then dragged one finger through the thick saliva on his tongue, smiling. He shot a questioning look to Cas, who again acquiesced without speaking. Moving his hand down, below the hardness of the angel and all the soft flesh beneath, Dean delved low, far between warm thighs. Snaking that slick finger around, he searched for the tight entrance he knew was hiding and returned impish lips to Castiel's wet head.

Cas was overwhelmed. Dean knew it but did not let up. He wanted this creature fully wrecked by his sex and would not be content until he was. Repeating himself, he pushed his lips down and back up the incandescent length of the cock in his mouth over and over, trying to tear that fevered reaction from the ball of light beneath him just one more time. When he finally found the clenched ingress he sought, he circled it gently, pressing just the tip of his finger against it like a decadent whisper.

Fighting to stay centered, Cas focused. Or tried to. But that finger - swirling, insistent. Just a touch, just a tease from it pushed Castiel toward something he couldn't identify. It scared him just a little, but before he could say a word, that mouth came to soothe him. His sweet soft hunter's mouth. Pulling up up up, pushing down down down - impossibly strong but so delicate, white hot. Castiel fought hard, struggling to stay in the familiar place that mouth had only recently constructed just for him.

And it worked. Until Dean caught his eyes, again: lips stretched, gaze keen as a knife's edge tossed from a low angle up over the entire expanse of the angel's torso.

Cas flew. Those eyes, again. So green. So _deep_. So full of _so much_. The emotion and sensation coming from this man, even coming from inside himself - his vessel, his core, his grace - excited and aroused and confused as it flowed between and wrapped around the two of them. It set Castiel aloft. In his blissed-out haze, he remembered how soft Dean's hair had felt under his fingers earlier - how soothing the consistency of it had been, comforting and grounding with its fine texture. So he reached out, planting both palms in it once more. The bedrock of the hunter under his hands, the simple feeling of each hair as it shifted through his fingers, helped to settle him.

Dean, on the other hand, was sent reeling from the contact. He bloomed under this attention from Cas but did not stop the languid movements he'd committed to with lips, tongue and playful finger. He continued to fascinate and tease the angel, but he was coaxing now, too. Again nuzzling up into both open palms, he used the slightest of motions to provoke Cas - he pushed up against him, urging him to push back as much as he wanted. Without words, he dared him to nudge, tug, push and pull, to thrust, to learn - to be as heavy-handed as he wanted to be.

Castiel came back to himself slowly but grew increasingly unsure the more stable he became. Dean seemed to _want_ to be _pushed_. But he was pushing, too - running a circuit around Cas' tight ring with that one wet finger. What was right? What should he do? He'd never felt anything like this before - nothing like any of this, not in the entirety of his long existence. The paradox of it all was too much to decipher: everything hard but soft at the same time, rough and tender, hot want and stone-cold need. It was difficult for him to understand what he wanted, what his vessel was feeling, what Dean expected of him, or to know what to do.

For a flash, Castiel just lie still, hyper-aware, trying to categorize what was happening. He started by counting the hairs passing under his touch, then moved on to identify and memorize every sensation he felt, each sound his hunter made as he devoured him whole. Every fact he gleaned, Cas filed away for later while Dean continued his holy work; mouth boiling, still teasing with one finger the sacred space far below, all the time rubbing his head up into the angel's borrowed hands like a kitten seeking a rough scratch behind the ears.

After a thoughtful moment, Castiel tousled the hair under his fingers and pushed downward just a touch, testing. Dean felt even more blood rush to the already hard steel between his thighs and moaned. A rough sound, hard and thick and throaty and deep - so damned deep - came from him, and Cas' just _reacted_. Whether it was instinct or involuntary, neither of them was sure, but his hips bucked _hard_. Regardless of how or why, the angel's swift movement forced more of his hot cock into Dean's mouth - all of it, obscuring the man's throat for an instant.

Dean lurched, caught off guard by his own gag reflex. Choking and panting, he took himself gently from Cas' body and used both hands to cover his mouth as he coughed. Cas pitched forward, low apologies given in a rush, but froze in place as Dean turned his eyes to him, heavy-lidded.

“Did you like that, Cas?” he asked. The sound coming from him was amber-dark with want but crystal clear in intention. He tried in vain to ignore his throbbing sex as he looked at the angel.

Opening his mouth, Castiel found he suddenly could not speak. He was simply unable to form the human words he wanted.

Hands all over, Dean touched Cas' hips, abdomen and thighs. He caressed the angel like he was petting a wild animal that might bolt back into the woods at any moment.

“I like that - sometimes,” Dean's voice was uncharacteristically breathy, “That kinda thing. To do it. Have it done to me.”

Castiel blinked. He would have been on the verge of tears if he'd had any sense.

“Want some more of that?” Dean questioned, a depth and warmth Cas had never heard before seeping into his words.

Castiel wanted to say yes. He wanted to tell Dean he wanted it all, because he did. He wanted everything, right now.

But he was baffled.

“This is confusing, Dean,” Cas said, embarrassed, “Is that something peanut butter would do? I am not catching anything when we do that.”

Dean sighed and the angel hesitated before he finished, tilting his face up to the ceiling and covering his face with his hands. He was unable to look the hunter in the eye as he completed his thought.

“You sharing yourself with me in this way means more than you could ever know, Dean,” he said, clearly rattled. “What you are giving me needs to be treated with care. I have made many mistakes since coming to Earth, but this is one thing I must get right.”

The hunter gasped, wanting to smile but found himself too overcome to do so. “Dammit, Cas,” escaped his lips before he could tell himself not to default to Asshole Mode. He took a breath and shook his head.

“Cas – there is no right or wrong. Not really.” He paused, air sticking in his throat as he continued, “It's okay to do different things at different times. This doesn't need any labels. And neither do you.”

This was an awful lot for Castiel to absorb, but he started to understand. Dean leaned forward and pulled the hands from over the angel's eyes.

“You're just _you_ , Cas. Whatever you want. Passive, or 'pitching', or hanging upside-down from the god-damned ceiling! Mix it up however you want."  
  
His tone softened, "As long as everyone enjoys what's happening, it's right,” he finished.

The angel raised his head from the mattress and squinted at the hunter.

“Did you enjoy it, Dean?” he asked, already knowing the hunter's answer.

Dean's dick jumped. A devilish grin spread over his face from ear-to-ear, eyes twinkling like a far-off galaxy spinning silently in space.

“Like I said before, Cas - I like a little bit of everything. Right now, I'm really enjoying whatever makes you feel good.”

Cas blinked, timid. Dean would swear he saw the angel's full-body blush instantly turn a shade darker.

“Did you …" Dean prodded, "Did you like being a little rough like that?”

Like a shy child seeking another cookie, Cas nodded solemnly. He was at a total loss for words once more.

“Wanna try it again?” Dean coached.

Castiel nodded softly.

Using his hands, mouth and voice, Dean urged the angel to do it again.

He did.


	6. Chapter 6

Dean's breath was ragged as he took all of what the angel had to give, time and time again. His throat bucked around the swollen head as it pressed as far back as it could, over and over. By the second or third stroke, Cas had started whining - a steady mess of sound trickling from his lips, most of it incoherent.

He'd started out unsure again, but that hesitance dissipated as soon as he felt the back of Dean's throat constrict around the tip of his cock. Cas suddenly understood how some humans became addicted to things so easily. The hunter had sunken him deep enough to brush the downy hair at the base of his sex with his nose, and all Castiel could think about was experiencing that feeling again. Surprising himself, and Dean too, from that moment on Cas has been the one setting their rhythm - an urgent one.

Fingers wrapped around his hunter's jaw as the angel watched himself thrust up into Dean's mouth, more desperate than gentle. Every movement brought with it new sensation, each fresh feeling stacked on what had come before. Pure physical bliss piled higher and higher until Cas thought he might end up back in Heaven without ever leaving Earth. He was flying again, this time on wings of pleasure Dean had shown him, taught him to use.

The angel's very human rapture was palpable to the hunter, who was delighted to find Cas plunging a little harder, a little deeper, with each stroke. He was eager to keep up and groaned, gripping Castiel's hips and pulling him further in, all the way in, drowning. Castiel answered with fingers rough through hair, reading every moan and learning quickly when to tug at Dean's neck and ears. Crying out as their eyes met, both he and the man shuddered in equal measure.

Despite his own distraction, Cas sensed a hunger rising in Dean, something sharp and primal that he could not define. It intrigued and excited him. Swallowing hard, Dean blinked away wetness collecting on his eyelashes and reached down to pull at his own erection. Impossibly hard and weeping, he tugged himself in time to his angel's thrusts, the sparks of Dean's pleasure making Cas more confident with every push. Obscene sounds came from them both, the man's sloppy and muffled, interrupted at times by the angel's stiffness. A single tear of exertion escaped and slid down his face, unchecked until Cas caught it on the tip of a finger and inexplicably brought it to his mouth to taste.

They danced like this long enough for Dean's throat to grow raw from strain, lips tired from pulling tight over teeth, and for Castiel's voice to turn hoarse from calling his name. Gradually, the pair slowed and came to a drawn-out stop with Dean winded, face flush.

“You taste _so good_ , Angel,” he said, clearing his throat after a deep breath. He bit his lip, saliva collecting in the opposite corner of his mouth as he continued to stroke himself, “ _So fucking good,_ ” he moaned.

Dean moved his free hand to his mouth again, grinning now, and gathered some of that thick spit with a finger.

“How 'bout some more of this, too?” he asked, a wicked grin playing across perfect lips.

Cas trembled in response.

“Tell me, Baby,” Dean demanded, still palming himself softly, “Let me hear you.”

“Yes,” Castiel blurted, frantic, “Yes, Dean. Please.”

Dean let out a sigh and moved low one more time, down below Cas' thighs, between his soft cheeks to that hot sacred place, to tease and test the angel. Castiel's mouth fell open, unable to speak, unable to move, not knowing what to say or having a voice to say it with as Dean found and pressed against his tightness, a little heavier than before.

Cas gasped as Dean dipped just a fraction of a fingertip into that opening, then backed away. It was like lightning striking. Castiel gasped, needy, and the hunter did it again. He took a moment to lick his finger and went back for more, still tugging gently at his own hardness with the other hand.

Moving to wipe drops of moisture from Dean's lips, Cas was struck by a thought. He leaned forward and whispered the hunter's name.  
  
“Kiss me,” the angel pleaded.

Unable to deny this sweet creature anything he desired, Dean pulled both hands away from their tasks as he pitched his body forward to lean over Castiel. Their lips met, wet and supple and wanting. Cas moved in to touch the man's face, a tender moment in a storm of feeling.

“Dean,” he whispered hoarse between kisses, “That mouth … thing. I want to try that. Doing that. To you.”

The hunter shook his head and rose up to his knees, one still on either side of the angel's outstretched legs. He swiped at his mouth with the back of a hand.

“This is good,” Cas continued, panting, “So good. But I want to try that, too.”  
  
Dean couldn't help but notice that - for someone that didn't need oxygen - Cas was certainly out of breath a lot.

“C'mon Cas,” Dean said, still shaking his head softly, “This isn't about me -”  
  
Castiel furrowed his brow.

“I want to, Dean,” the angel implored, “Maybe not as hard as … as you did,” Cas blushed again, “But, I want to try. A little.”

Again unable to deny Castiel anything, Dean did not refuse further.

The man took his time but crawled half the length of the angel's torso on his hands and knees, dropping kisses like breadcrumbs up the entirety of his adopted form as he did so. When their mouths finally touched, he sucked Cas' lower lip between both of his, tender. Castiel's body rose under the kiss and he leaned up into it, nuzzling stubbled cheeks against Dean's and spiking his hips. Trapping all that hardness between them, the angel pushed himself against anything he could and urged Dean to do the same.  
  
The hunter did, and had just enough time to snatch a crisp breath in before Cas gripped his shoulders and pulled him closer. The hard flesh the angel longed for now swung just inches from his lips - Cas opened his mouth to speak but only warm air escaped, bouncing off that steely skin and forcing Dean to look away.

Watching Cas like this was looking into the heart of the sun. Dean bit his lip, trying to fight the searing waves of desire rolling through him; it was futile. Unable to resist the lure, he whirled his head back around to be blinded by the angel's simple beauty a little more.

Castiel's eyes and hands lingered reverent on the contours above him. Moving over them and back again, his gaze and touch darted over all of Dean he could see and reach. The man again had to look away, conquered by the innocent ecstasy he found on the angel's face. Cas was particularly mesmerized by the hunter's pulsing cock, vaulting and swaying so close. He tilted his head and studied it, reached a finger toward its heft and ran it deliberately along the underside, following the darkest vein from base to head. Dean quivered and swelled, his mouth falling open in a wordless gasp as he turned back to watch Castiel drink him in. Time seemed to stand still as both of them paused, taking a moment to affix this instant in their minds like photographs in an album.

The angel had memorized every line and ripple of the man's hard flesh before his tongue fully extended to reach its tip. By the time the moan escaped Dean's lips, Cas had committing his thick scent to memory, and before he began to lick he'd already counted and recounted the freckles between Dean's belly-button and the soft thatch of curls he was so close to now.

Dean's moan dissolved into a sigh and became another moan before his brain processed what his eyes had seen. The sweet thing beneath him began to taste – slowly at first – and the man melted. Cas had no idea what he was doing but that didn't matter: his desperation to give something tonight aside from simple acquiescence was intoxicating to Dean. The hunter balanced himself carefully, freeing a hand to bring to Castiel's face. He brushed sweat-damp hair from the angel's forehead and stroked his jaw with gently bent knuckles.  
  
“You're beautiful, Cas,” Dean said, whispering his lover's name over and over, “So beautiful.”

Castiel replied without words, nipping at Dean with his tongue, moving first over the glistening tip then in dreamy zig-zags up the length and back. The man cursed long under his breath and gripped at the angel's chin, wide-eyed. Cas was spurred on; emboldened by the heated reaction, he took the hardness he wanted into his mouth just a bit, mimicking a little of what the hunter had done to his own body not so long ago.  
  
Dean quaked in disbelief as Cas' lips engulfed the thickness of his head. He doubted his vision but not the sensation; so hot, so good. Shaking, he could not believe he was twisted, half upside-down, mouth agape, watching an angel - a god-damned bonafide angel, and Cas at that - suck his fucking cock. The power of Heaven was under Dean and it made him convulse with want and fear and everything in between. He thought he was going to explode.

As if the strength of that wasn't enough, Cas used this moment to try taking Dean's thickness to the hilt and back again. The man's cry reverberated through the room and Castiel felt very proud of himself.

“Don't push yourself, Cas!” Dean choked on the words when he recovered enough to speak.

Castiel purred in reply and Dean felt the mad hum travel through his entire body. The angel continued, but after only a few strokes of his tongue, Dean knew he had to stop him. The sweet soft eagerness of Castiel's actions was just too much.

“Cas,” he called, brushing fingertips against the angel's lips, “Gotta stop you, Baby.”

The angel hummed again but did not stop.

“Cas!” Dean said, more urgent this time.

Eyes closed, Castiel was clearly too intent on his work to understand the man's urgency.

“CAS!”  
  
Nothing but hot, wet noises came from Castiel.

After one particularly spirited dash of tongue, Dean summoned every ounce of self-control he'd ever had and pulled away abruptly - more abruptly than he'd wanted to. He collapsed, breathing hard, on the bed next to the stunned angel.

Cas looked worried but did not speak.

“You're too much for me, Cas,” Dean explained, chest heaving.

Castiel cocked his head. He did not understand.  
  
Dean propped himself up on one arm, catching his breath.

“Too much too fast, Angel,” Dean said, still panting as he placed a hand on Cas' chest, “And too damned good.”  
  
Castiel was somewhat relieved but his head was still cocked, confused. Dean gathered his thoughts carefully before he continued.  
  
“Sex is like mountain-climbing, Cas,” Dean swirled his fingers in Castiel's hair as he wove his words carefully, “It's important for me to get the person I'm climbing with to the top first.”  
  
The angel perked up, also propping himself up on one elbow to look Dean in the eye.

“I can take you to any mountain in the world, Dean. Right now, if you want,” Cas sat bolt upright, excited, “I understand Mount Fuji is particularly magnificent this time of year. But cold. You should put your clothes back on.”

Everything about tonight, even Castiel's awkwardness, was a gift to Dean. He chuckled just a bit and shook his head, putting a hand out flat to stop the angel from bolting out of bed.  
  
“ _Metaphor_ , Cas – another _metaphor_ ,” Dean laughed, gathering Castiel into his arms, “I meant ... what you were doing felt good. _Really_ good. If you'd kept going, this would have ended up being over faster than it should be.”  
  
The angel started to nod and let Dean pull him down into an embrace.

“I can't be _finished_ yet,” the hunter continued as Castiel pressed an ear to his chest, “Not right now. Not before you. Maybe not at all.”

Cas relaxed fully, listening to Dean's heartbeat as the man pressed lips to the top of his head.  
  
“I understand, Dean,” he whispered, then added, “Can we kiss a little more?”

The hunter smiled wide as Cas tilted his face upwards, bringing their lips together. He tasted himself on the angel's tongue as they kissed and it turned him on more than he'd expected. As their mouths locked, Castiel took one of Dean's hands in both of his and placed it back below his waist.

He clearly still had the angel's full attention.


End file.
